


Together

by A (AILiSeki)



Series: The Flammable Fragments [5]
Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - All Media Types, A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: F/M, Tumblr Prompt, canon compliant character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-10-18 09:58:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17578712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AILiSeki/pseuds/A
Summary: "We finish it the same way we started—together."





	Together

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on [tumblr](https://virtualfindingsdocumented.tumblr.com/post/176179534954/hello-beatricebertrand-we-finish-it-the-same).

"You look beautiful today." It was the first thing Bertrand told Beatrice when they met in front of the theater. To anyone watching, it must have looked like they were a young couple on a date.

Beatrice wanted so badly to believe they were just a young couple on a date. Not because she wanted to *date* Bertrand. She was quite happy with her real boyfriend, who for several reasons was not around right now, and Bertrand was like a brother to her. A friend and a partner in crime. Literally, after tonight.

That was the problem. Beatrice didn't want to think of what they were about to do. She wanted to forget everything, she wanted to look into Bert's blue eyes and believe they were there just to have fun, that they weren't about to commit a crime.

"Shall we enter?" She said with a fake smile, and she was glad she was a great actress. Pretending to be feeling something she wasn't was quite easy, and as she took his hand she was sure the two of them were the only people who knew the truth.

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. Bertrand was a great actor too. He hid his insecurity behind a confident smile. Beatrice was very thankful for this. Between the two, someone had to be the strong one, and she couldn't right now. She would spend her whole life trying to make it up to him, if he still wanted to be her partner tonight. If they managed to complete their mission tonight.

They entered the theater. If they weren't so worried about their mission, they would have admired that beautiful place for longer, and they would have enjoyed the opera presentation much more. But they had a mission, so they rushed to their marked seats. Beatrice left during intermission to get the box of poisoned darts from K, and Bertrand retrieved the gun hidden under the seats. Before the curtain rose again, everything was prepared, and both felt like they hadn't heard a note sung on stage.

Everything was prepared, but it didn't mean they were ready.

"I am scared," Beatrice whispered as she took a peek at their targets on her opera glasses, sounding much more like the teenager she was than the adult woman she pretended to be.

"What is that thing your boyfriend always says?" Bertrand whispered back.

" _'Get scared later.'_ "

"Let's get this done. We have the rest of our lives to think about it."

They were sixteen. They were told this was for the greater good, though no one took the time to explain to them why. They were already too involved with a war that was just beginning. They both knew taking a life was wrong regardless, and they both knew that once the trigger was pulled, there would be no turning back.

Bertrand handed the gun to Beatrice. It was dark, and everyone was paying attention to the play instead of to the young couple on a date. The weapon was silently and deadly. The only thing that could go wrong now was their own aim. Her hands trembled as she raised her right hand, holding the gun. He noticed it, and placed his left hand on her right one.

"Together." He said, looking intensely into her eyes. Despite the darkness, Beatrice could see the fear in them. *Get scared later.* He helped her adjust the aim.

At the count of three, she pulled the trigger. Then her finger left it, but she kept holding the gun, helping Bertrand to aim to the second target before she noticed what had happened. Another silent countdown, and he pulled the trigger. They lowered the gun, their hands still holding it together, their fingers touching.

They didn't exchange any more words that night.

* * *

When Beatrice came to her senses, the first thing she noticed was the heat and the smell of smoke. Only after that she felt the pain from being roughly moved while unconscious, and opened her eyes to realize she was in her room, on the second floor of the mansion. She knew well how quickly fire could spread. She had to leave immediately.

That's what she got for inviting a villain into her home, she bitterly thought. At least the children were far, safe. She hoped her husband was in better conditions than her. She was dizzy, and her movements were slow due to some drug still being in her system. The smoke didn't help. Beatrice could hardly breathe when she reached the stairs, and her eyes stung. She thought the shadow walking towards her from the opposite corridor was just an illusion, when she felt his hands on her shoulder.

"Bea." He said, and by his voice, she could tell he still had some drug on his system.

"Bert." The house seemed to shake under them. "We need to leave. Now!"

They could see from their position near the stairs that the fire was quickly spreading downstairs as well, blocking the front door. Of course, *he* wouldn't leave the job half done. *He* made sure they would have no escape.

But not all hope was lost. There was still the trapdoor on the library, the secret passage that took to a place that may not be as safe anymore, but was better than a flaming house.

The couple ran downstairs, side by side, as fast as they could without tripping. Beatrice was a few steps ahead of Bertrand when he seemed to trip on something. The house shook again. Beatrice turned back in time to see the old cupboard falling down. There was an awful breaking sound, so loud that it muffled his scream.

The library was only a few steps ahead. Time seemed to stop to Beatrice as she stared at Bertrand fallen there on the ground, the lower half of his body covered by a messy bunch of broken wood and glass. Of course, time didn't really stop. The flames kept growing around them.

"Beatrice! Beatrice!"

She came back to reality as she heard him shout her name.

"Beatrice! You have to leave now!"

Beatrice shook her head.

"Not without you!" She knelt down near him, and tried to remove the pieces of furniture that were over his legs.

"No, Bea, no! You have to go. Please." He pleaded, looking into her eyes. "I think my legs are broken. You don't have time."

"I will carry you!" She said, her voice desperate. "We can do this! I won't leave you behind, Bert!"

The house shook again, as if to remind them that time was running out. They didn't need it. They were both trained well enough to know that Bertrand was right. Beatrice could manage to lift and carry him, but it would slow her. Not to mention the time it would take to get to free him. They wouldn't make it.

"Please. You need to get to the passage. You need to survive. The children-" Bertrand was not a person who cried often, not even in the worst of the situations, so Beatrice knew how truly desperate he was when she saw his tears. That alone was enough for her to cry as well.

"I can't leave. I can't live without you." She said, sounding a little calmer now that she made up her mind. There was no rushing. She wasn't going anywhere without her husband.

Bertrand opened his mouth to protest again, but he realized it was useless. She knelt on the ground and took his left hand in her right one.

"We stay together. Until the end." Beatrice said.

More tears joined the ones on his face.

"This is not how things should go."

"This is exactly how things should go." She said in a soft voice. "You know why this happened. We both have done it together, we should both pay for it together."

Bertrand closed his eyes.

"I love you, Bea."

"I love you too, Bert." Beatrice replied, placing a kiss on his fingers. The heat was becoming unbearable.

They didn't exchange any more words that morning, or ever again.


End file.
